


looks like you’ve been there too

by XioNin



Series: Starman: Sander's Song [5]
Category: WTFock | Skam (Belgium)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Missing Moments, inner monologue, sander pov, wtfock s3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 16:11:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21412975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XioNin/pseuds/XioNin
Summary: Sander had gotten the message loud and clear, so what was Robbe doing there?Sander's thoughts during today's clips. (12.11.19)
Relationships: Robbe Ijzermans/Sander Driesen
Series: Starman: Sander's Song [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1533593
Comments: 8
Kudos: 185





	1. what can i do for you?

**Author's Note:**

> By request. :) These are quick and dirty, so forgive any typos. I'll fix them when I can.
> 
> Title is a lyric from David Bowie's 'Rebel Rebel'

Sander felt closer to being himself than he had in days. Days that had felt like years.

He’d been proud, though. Proud that he’d managed to stay upright.

He'd managed to go where he’d been expected to go, do what he'd been expected to do, and no one was the wiser. No one had noticed the pieces of his heart sticking out of his chest at odd angles, or the way he couldn’t bring himself to listen to certain songs, walk by certain buildings, drink certain drinks.

Sander had known his fair share of pain, but this was new. This was a marrow-deep ache in charred bones. It was acid in his stomach, and a curse for his soft, soft heart. He really should have known better.

It was just that Robbe (he swallowed around the memory of whispering that name as he tried to fall asleep the night he’d learned it) was supposed to be different.

Not at first.

At first, Sander had thought Robbe was just like his friends. Loud, crass, thoughtless and self-absorbed, even if they were fun to get drunk with. But when he’d finally had the chance to be alone with Robbe, he’d seen another side of him that had taken his breath away.

He’d let his guard down because the man seemed so _downy_. Soft and in need of care. And Sander, the idiot, he’d jumped at the chance to be with him.

“This is wonderful, Sander,” a man’s voice said, startling him out of his thoughts. “Just watch your perspective on the curve, there.”

His instructor pointed at an area on his sketch, and Sander could see where the issues were. “Ah, yeah. Okay.”

Sander mentally shook himself. There was no use dwelling on anything where Robbe was concerned. Sander had made a mistake. It wasn’t the first time and it sure as fuck wouldn’t be the last. It was done. Time to move on.

When he bell rang, Sander picked up a cloth to clean his fingertips of the charcoal.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hans, the model for the day, put on his robe and make his way over. Sander had caught him looking his way a few times and didn’t know what to make of that.

“This isn’t bad,” Hans said, standing back to look at the sketch just as Sander reached for it.

“Thanks.”

“You’ve got real talent.”

Sander shrugged. “I don’t know. I struggle a lot with seeing things how they are and not how I expect them to be.”

He packed up and they walked to the door.

“Don’t we all?"

“Some more than others,” Sander said, smiling a little as he stepped into the hall.

"It's all a matter of perspective. Looking at things from all angles.”

Sander opened his mouth to respond, but someone called out his name. He turned and...

It was a what-the-fuck moment because what the fuck was Robbe doing there?

Sander never expected to see Robbe again, at least not so soon, and especially not _there_. He thought he was safe at school. All of the anger and hurt he’d stuffed down made its presence known, surging up into his throat and threatening to spill out.

He wasn't about to give Robbe the satisfaction, so Sander walked on. He heard the jogging footsteps and it took everything in him not to break into a sprint. Just put some distance between them.

“Sander. Hey.”

It was audacity of the hand on his shoulder that made Sander stop.

“Can we talk?” Robbe's mouth had the nerve to sport a tiny smile. A hopeful smile.

Sander wondered what the hell he had to be hopeful about. He swallowed his initial response, warring emotions coursing through him.

But oh, God, Sander realized he wanted to talk. He _wanted_ to talk to him. Wanted to hear what Robbe had to say. He wanted to give him a chance to convince him to listen. But for once in his life, Sander wasn’t going give in to the urge to forgive and acquiesce and bury his own pain.

He was even more proud when he could meet Robbe’s eyes and successfully convey the cold _fuck you_ on the tip of his tongue.

“Please?”

Sander could hear the effect of his iciness in the pleading note in Robbe’s voice, could see it in the kicked puppy dog expression on his face. Robbe thought he deserved to be heard.

Though his heart pounded out its demands in his chest, the rational part of Sander disagreed.

And Robbe was still _touching_ him, branding his arm through layers of fabric with a heat Sander had been trying to forget for days.

God, Sander wanted him still. Cared still.

Too shocked and angry with himself to even say anything, too afraid of his own heart’s desire, Sander quickly walked away.

Of course, he didn’t get far.

It was the “please” that had him turning the corner and leaning against the wall as if he were out of breath. It was the “please” that had him sagging against it, knees buckling until his ass hit the floor. People stepped around him, used to his odd behavior, and left him to fret between his own version of Scylla and Charybdis.

He knew that word, please. Knew it intimately.

_He came to you_, Sander thought. _He sought you out_.

But for what?

_You won’t know unless you talk to him._

Sander thumped his head against the wall.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath as he climbed to his feet.

Robbe most likely rode his bike, so Sander headed to the bike stands.

Five minutes. He’d give him five minutes to close the open loop of them. Then Sander could get on with his life, school, his art, and Britt. And…whatever wasn’t Robbe Ijzermans’ soft smile, soft hair, and poisonous tongue.

Five minutes for the rest of his life.


	2. and we kissed as though nothing could fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sander's thoughts in today's second clip. [12.11.19]
> 
> Title taken from David Bowie's "Heroes"

“Fuck!”

Sander’s steps slowed at the sound of Robbe’s voice echoing throughout the courtyard. He stopped to watch the spectacle, gaining more than a little satisfaction as he witnessed Robbe’s meltdown over the lock.

The guy was clearly upset, but Sander didn’t want to be naïve enough to think it was anything more than frustration. Sander hadn’t bent over backwards to hear him out, probably throwing a wrench in Robbe’s plans to win him back.

Too fucking bad.

Still, he hadn’t been able to squelch the voice that said _it can’t hurt to listen to him_.

The voice was wrong, it could hurt.

A lot.

But Sander was that much of an idiot. He just couldn’t let it end like this. “You’ve got five minutes.”

The annoyed look on Robbe’s face was precious. “Why don’t you want to talk to me?”

Seriously? “What’s there to talk about?” Sander clung to his anger so that the hurt Robbe’s words had lashed him with wouldn’t take over. “You were clear enough.”

“Sorry.” Robbe uttered the most half-assed apology in history and Sander was ready to be done with it all. “Okay sorry.”

Sander looked at him, waiting for something more. Waiting for Robbe to explain _how_ he could have said the things he said. He thought he probably understood the why, but he wasn’t about to give Robbe any room to squirm. So, he waited.

“I really like you.”

Sander would have laughed if it weren’t so ridiculous. “So, you shit all over me?”

“That was fucked up, I know.”

Sander didn’t think he knew at all. _How would you feel if Noor accused you of what you’ve accused me of?_ He wanted to ask it. The words were rolling around in his mouth, ready to spill all over the ground.

“I was fucked up.”

That got Sander’s attention.

“You’re the first guy I’ve…” Robbe confirmed, and Sander swallowed that bit of information. “And that kiss, it was…”

_Mindblowing. Life-changing. Earth-shattering. _Finally, Sander could agree with something.

Robbe was so fucking adorable in that moment, his hands suspended in the air, that an unbidden smile tugged at the corners of Sander’s mouth. He pushed it away. Waited and watched for more. Robbe had to give him more.

“But afterwards…” Robbe continued. “Immediately after, it was Chernobyl in my mind.”

Robbe looked so lost, sounded so small. Sander clutched his portfolio tighter and balled his other hand into a loose fist around the strap of his bag to keep himself rooted to that spot. He could feel his anger melting away and he didn’t want to lose it just yet. Not yet.

“I get that I fucked up,” Robbe continued, his expression open and naked with remorse. “And I’m sorry.”

Damn. Sander believed him and he knew what was coming next. Braced himself for it.

“Please give me one more chance.”

_Please_.

Sander licked his lips, tightened his jaw to stop the flood of words, but he couldn’t stand still any longer. He took the three steps that separated them, and then he was right there.

Being so close, Sander could see the pain and shame in Robbe’s eyes. Hope lived there too. It was the other side of the coin, a mirror to his own pain, all caused by the same thing. Fear.

Being so close, Sander could finally see what he meant to Robbe. He could almost imagine the bridge between them mending itself.

He moved as close as he dared to with Robbe’s eyes in his, his cheeks flush. He could hear Robbe’s staccato breaths as he waited for Sander to make a decision. One he’d already made. One that was probably never his to make.

Like a magnet, Robbe’s presence drew him in and Sander caught himself leaning in to kiss him. He pulled back.

“What about Chernobyl?”

_What about the mess in your head that told you I was a sickness? Something to be excised from your life with the blunt edge of a brutal knife? What about your acceptance of who you are and who you want? What’s changed that makes it okay for me to let you in again?_

“Fuck Chernobyl.” Robbe’s declaration, as nervous as it was, said enough.

“Fuck Chernobyl.” Sander allowed his smile to bloom and then he couldn’t help himself. He pressed a quick kiss to the mouth he’d been dreaming of for months.

Robbe’s smile was one of sweet relief, and Sander’s heart thumped hard against his rib cage. He studied him for only a moment before he gave in to what he’d wanted all along.

_Be careful_ the voice said this time, but Robbe’s fingers were on Sander’s face and his breath fanned out across Sander’s cheek as they relearned each other’s lips.

Sander gripped his portfolio tighter, terrified of letting go of that makeshift shield, but he couldn’t resist burying his other hand in Robbe’s hair.

This was the guy he’d be falling for, sweet and gentle and hungry for him. He wanted to dive in head-first.

_Careful_.

His phone startled Sander out of any chance of indecision because, shit. There was still Britt. Robbe had the power to make him forget her too easily.

Was he ready to walk away from someone so sure for someone who, less than a week ago, hadn’t been able to accept themselves? Who had lashed out in the most vicious way possible to deny their own truth?

Sander honestly didn’t know. So, he eased Robbe back and pulled out his phone, declining the call. He’d catch hell for that later, but he couldn’t answer while he was breathless.

“Britt is waiting for me.”

Robbe’s hand tightened on his jacket, but Sander was unprepared for the way Robbe otherwise tried to hide his disappointment. He hadn’t counted on the sorrow in Robbe’s eyes or the way he pressed his lips into a thin line to keep from asking him to stay. He didn't need to ask, his face was an open book.

“Hey,” Sander rushed to reassure him. Because if he was going to take this chance, if he was going to make a conscious decision to forgive Robbe and move on from this – with him – then he owed him that.

He leaned down to catch Robbe’s gaze.

“Britt is in the past.” He cupped Robbe’s face in his palm, slid his fingertips through the silky strands of his hair, and gripped him tight. Sander tried to paint the truth of his words onto Robbe’s lips with his own. “We are the future.”

He smiled down at him, relieved when Robbe’s mouth curved up to answer him.

When they came together again, the kiss tasted different. Any trace of bitterness was gone, and Sander got lost in it. The scent, and warmth, and feel of him. The way Robbe clung to him as if he never wanted to let go.

With every cell in his body, Sander hoped that was true.

“I really have to go,” he reminded himself, helpless to resist a few more nips from Robbe’s mouth.

They held onto each other until the last possible moment, and Sander was smitten all over again. So much so, that he tripped over himself when Robbe finally released him. Untethered, and floating in the most peculiar way.

He hoped he wouldn’t crash and burn this time.


End file.
